The House of Shadows.
171
Then sate on the cushioned divan, Gazed on the tapestried wall,Read listless the titles of books Through mist of tears that would fall;
There mused till the twilight entered, Drew shadow leaves faint on the floor,And folded the thirsty petals Of lily and madrigore,That swooned in pots on the terrace, Begrimed with dust of the street:Forgotten, neglected, they also Struck down by summer's fierce heat.
Anon the monks began chanting Their Avé at dusky day;I knew it was time to be going To my home just over the way.Only one moment I lingered, To watch the moon from that room,Climb over the Pitti's turret, Throw an arrow on the gloom.
Not long on the terrace I lingered, Turning bewildered, aghast,—Empty, echoing, were the rooms Through which my steps had just passed.
